


Love You Forever

by Fandoms_Everywhere_United



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (And not for a while), (but not much), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accident, Children, Coma, Crying, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Flashbacks, Hospitals, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, M/M, No one actively dies, Non Graphic Birth, Past Character Death, Pregnancy, The MCD is for the past death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 13:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Everywhere_United/pseuds/Fandoms_Everywhere_United
Summary: After a car accident, Lance's financée, Pidge, is thrown unceremoniously into a coma.  After talking with a doctor by her bedside, Lance is informed that Pidge was pregnant at the time, and that, miraculously, the baby survived.  However, she's not even showing, and six months is a long time to wait.---“Shecanhear you,'' the doctor told him.  “Shecan’tsee you.  Shecan’t reallyfeel you.”The doctor’s assurances didn’t help him when he reached out to hold her hand, and her body grew taut as if in pain.  Her hands curled in and around in a position that looked so… unnatural.  Her legs straightened out and her elbows turned in on herself.But he could sit with her.That much he could do.Even if it wasn’t much.So he told her about how much he loved her.





	Love You Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for the Hey There, Sharpshooter Bang!!! It's been a long road to get here, but a huge thank you to by beta, [@leandralena](https://twitter.com/leandralena) on Twitter and my artist jingercat03 on Instagram (I’ll edit again later to link) with their awesome piece that you can see here. Please check it out; it’s awesome.

Things tended to start with tragedy.

Or maybe they ended with tragedy, and Lance was just going through the motions without realizing that it was over.

He wasn’t sure what this was. He prayed it was the former, but feared it was the latter.

****

T+ 1 day, 11 hours, 23 minutes, 

****

****  


Pidge was laying down in the hospital bed. Her curls fell around her head like a mini brown halo. A new pair of glasses were on her bedside table, right next to an untouched glass of water.

Somehow, they had managed to get a private room for her. Lance didn’t see what the point of it was. She wouldn’t care anyway. 

A ventilator went down into her lungs, breathing for her with a barely perceptible whoosh of air as her chest rose and fell from the oxygen being provided according to the machine’s programing.

“She _can _hear you,'' the doctor told him. “She _can’t_ see you. She _can’t really_ feel you.”

The doctor’s assurances didn’t help him when he reached out to hold her hand, and her body grew taut as if in pain. Her hands curled in and around in a position that looked so… unnatural. Her legs straightened out and her elbows turned in on herself.

But he could sit with her.

That much he could do.

Even if it wasn’t much.

So he told her about how much he loved her. He touched the sheets next to her hands, so that she wouldn’t feel like he was hurting her. When he went down to the coffee shop right next to the hospital, he ordered her favorite drink, just in case she were to wake up while he was gone. She would want her dark roast coffee as soon as she woke up, especially if she had a headache.

He didn’t want to think that she probably wouldn’t be awake when he got back. He didn’t want to think about what a 4 on the Glasgow Coma Scale meant, so he didn’t. He didn’t want to think.

****

T+ 3 days, 13 hours, 54 minutes

****

****  


Lance sat with her every day, clenching his fists in the sheets next to her hand. He decorated her room with synthetic flowers, because real ones weren’t allowed in the ICU.

There was a tentative knock on the door that echoed around the room, in contrast with the rhythmic beeps of Pidge’s heart monitor. Jumping out of his chair, Lance turned toward the door, which a woman in a white coat had opened. “Mr. McClain?” she asked in a sweet voice. Her long brown hair was tied up in a tight ponytail that draped over her left shoulder. “My name is Doctor Sarah Angeline, and I’m Ms. Holt’s primary. I understand that you’re her fiancé?”

Lance nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I am. Do you have anything new?” The steady inhale and exhale of the ventilator filled the silence between the heart monitor’s beeps. He ran his thumb over the sheets, a pale comparison to Pidge’s hand.

The doctor nodded as she moved her clipboard in front of her. “Before the accident, did Ms. Holt tell you anything?”

“What kind of anything?” He hated how his voice sounded so hollow… so broken. It was raspy and dry and if he didn’t get some water soon it would start to hurt. He looked back at Pidge, looking oddly… peaceful, lying among the tubes, wires, and monitors.

Dr. Angeline sat down. “Before we took Ms. Holt in for her scans, we performed an ultrasound as we do with all women. This is to check for potential internal or abdominal bleeding, and also the presence of pregnancy.”

Lance looked at her, not talking. Why did he need to know this? He didn’t care about hospital regulations. All he cared about was Pidge.

“Mr. McClain, did Ms. Holt talk to you about being pregnant before the accident?” she asked.

Lance shook his head. “N--no…” He looked back to his fiancée and squeezed his handful of sheets. “She… she had been complaining about feeling nauseous in the afternoons though… for the past… two weeks? Nothing major though. She thought it was because they had changed the menu at work, and her body hadn’t gotten into the swing of things. But she wasn’t sick in the mornings.”

Dr. Angeline nodded. “Morning sickness isn’t necessarily restricted to the mornings. I suspect she was feeling some minor symptoms. But she didn’t talk to you about missing her menstrual cycles?” Lance shook his head again. He hadn’t looked away from Pidge, lying so still in the sheets despite the tubes and wires.

“You’re saying she was pregnant?” The doctor nodded. “Is she still pregnant? Because I mean… we were in an accident; and I don’t think that getting into a crash would be beneficial to their health, and, like, would she even be able to have the baby if she’s in a coma? How will we know when she goes into labor? Is there even a chance that the baby will make it to full term? What if she doesn’t wake up before then?” he rambled, as he cradled his head in his hands.

The doctor smiled softly, letting him breathe for a few moments before she reached forward and placed her hand on his knee. “I know you obviously have a lot of questions, and I’m more than happy to answer them. Let’s tackle them one at a time, alright?”

Lance looked up, taking in a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay, yeah, that sounds good. Uh… She’s… She’s still pregnant?” The doctor nodded again, a smile on her face. “Is it safe for her and-- and the baby?”

Dr. Angeline grinned. “That is correct. There are several reports of women in comas who have delivered healthy children despite their condition. While some of these reports come from less than savory circumstances, they were able to successfully deliver vaginally. I suspect we will be able to do the same with your fiancée, though we hope she will wake before then.”

“That’s great. That’s really—really great.” He wiped at his eyes. “Oh my god, I’m going to be a dad.” Lance reached over, forgetting, and grabbed her hand. “We’re gonna be parents, Pidgey.”

It felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest when she jerked out of his grip, her body going rigid as her hands flared out. But her face…

She looked like she was in the worst pain imaginable.

And Lance had put her there.

****

T- 2 hours, 3 minutes, 

****

****  


“Come on, Katie, I’ve just had one beer! Don’t be so… you have a word for what you are.” Lance grinned wildly, his eyes dilated. “You’ve got… so many words up in that big brain of yours.” He ruffled her hair and pretended to search through it as if he were looking for her brain.

Pidge swatted his hand away. She looked at the bartender, who shook his head and held up three fingers. “I have a word for what you are, and it’s tipsy.” She stood up on her tiptoes and pulled Lance down to kiss him, tasting beer on his lips. “Yep. Definitely tipsy.”

Lance hooted. “I like your, uh… diagnosis? No, how you _make_ the diagnosis. Yeah. That’s what I like. I think you need to do a few more tests, ones that require a private room.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, going to hold her hand. “I think you… you’d like that too.”

“Uh, huh. I take it back. You’re drunk.” Her face soured. “I thought you said you weren’t going to drink tonight.”

He threw his head back to laugh. “Yeah… but then Shiro said he would be desi driver.” Lance leaned on her, chuckling as she glared up at him.

She froze, looking up at him. “Lance, Shiro said he would be the designated driver for Hunk, Curtis, Adam, and himself. They’ve all been gone for an hour already.”

Lance’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait. Really?” Pidge nodded. “_Shit_.” He turned back and stumbled back to the bar. “Could I get a coffee and… uh… fries. Do you do fries?”

****

T+38 days, 14 hours, 7 minutes, 

****

****  


Lance rubbed his chin and cheeks. The beginnings of a beard was growing there, even though it felt like he had just shaved.

It was funny.

Before this, he hadn’t been able to grow one.

It was like his body finally decided that he was a man.

With his other hand, he clenched the sheets. Dr. Angeline was back with an ultrasound tech whose name Lance had forgotten. Was it something with a J? Maybe a T. Talles? It didn’t matter. The tech spread some ultrasound gel over her abdomen and held the stick in one of his hands.

He didn’t bother telling them how much it hurt him, that his fiancée had flinched and moved away from him, but she didn’t budge for the doctors. He was sure it was written clearly on his face.

Right now, he was looking at the fuzzy black and white image on the screen in front of them. The tech paused the image and pointed to something that vaguely looked like a small head. “Right here. This is your child, Mr. McClain.” He looked back at him. “I can print this image for you, if you’d like,” he said in a softer voice. 

Lance nodded, just a small tilt of his head. The tech lost a bit of his smile but regained it again. Pressing a button on the machine, he nodded and unfroze the image. “And if we come over here… it looks like you’re having a boy. Congratulations!”

Lance looked away, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. Would the little boy have eyes like Pidge’s? Hair like his? The baby...he had to have darker skin than her’s, right? That was how genetics worked.

Pidge would know.

She might draw Punnett squares with big and little ‘a’s and point out the genes that she hoped their child would have. They would make a game out of it. Lance would bet on the double big ‘A’s, _Homozygous Dominant_ Pidge would correct. She would bet on the two big and little ‘A’s _Heterozygous_. Another correction.

Pidge would be so happy. She always said that when she had a kid, she’d want a boy. _They were less work,_ she said. _You turn them loose in the yard, tell them to respect women, and help them with their homework._ Lance had laughed then, saying that he didn’t think it was that easy.

She just laughed back. _You’re right. Someone needs to teach him how to cook._

“Your baby’s heart seems to be healthy, so that’s good news.” Dr. Angeline’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Everything looks great!”

“Thank you,” Lance rasped, barely getting it past his tight throat. “Can I ask… Do you know when she’s due?”

The ultrasound tech frowned, making a face as if he bit into a lemon, pith and all. “I would say probably sometime around mid to late October. She looks around 16 or 17 weeks here. I wish I could say more definitively, but I can only give you a ballpark range right now.” He shrugged and started to clean Pidge up with a soft towel.

Lance sighed and stood, reaching over to shake the tech’s hand. “Thank you anyways.”

“Happy to help,” he said, “and for what it’s worth, I hope she’s awake for her next appointment. I’ll be sure to get you that picture,” he added. He wheeled the monitor out, one of the wheels squeaking in the otherwise quiet room.

Lance sat back down after Dr. Angeline left as well.

“Did you hear that, Pidgey?” he whispered, and gripped the sheets once more. “A baby boy. We’re gonna have a baby boy.” He laughed breathily. “We’ve gotta think of some names now, don’t we?”

He readjusted himself in his seat. “They told me that you can still hear me, so you’ve gotta give me some kind of a sign, yeah, Pidgey? I’m gonna go through some names.” Lance cleared his throat. “Alright, first and foremost: Lance James McClain Jr.”

The room was quiet for a few beats, only the ventilator and heart monitor made any noise. “Yeah, you’re right,” he chuckled. “Too white. Next… We could name him after one of our buddies. Shiro? Hunk? Adam?” Silence. “Yeah… I wouldn’t want them around all the time either.

“What about…”

****

T- 22 minutes

****

****  


“Lance, you can stop shoving fries in your mouth. I think you’ve sobered enough to drive.” Pidge giggled. She had continued to drink while Lance had spent his time gorging himself on greasy sides and coffee. He felt like bursting. Despite her size, Pidge handled her alcohol really well, but five martinis was a lot for anyone.

Lance shook his head. “I still don’t want to drive yet.”

Pidge pouted, leaning on his arm. “But Laaaaance, I wanna go hoooooome,” she whined. “Listen.” She held up her hand, preparing to count her reasons. “One! You’ve been here for almost two hours. Two! You’ve been eating, which means that whateer was in your stomach is not in your blood.” She leaned forward, putting her two fingers right in front of his eyes before cackling. “I think I had three… Oh! You only had two beers.”

He looked between his fiancée and the bartender. “What do you think? Do you think I’m good to go, or should I wait a little longer?” he asked and bit his bottom lip.

The bartender shrugged. “I’ve seen people drive with much more alcohol in them, and much less food than you’ve got in you. I’d say your girl’s got it right. But if you’re worried, you can always call a cab.”

Lance sighed, paying his tab and picked Pidge up. “Sounds like what we’ll do.” She was draped over him like a forward-facing backpack.

Yawning directly into Lance’s ear, she sighed and relaxed against him. “I like sounds.” She giggled. “Especially your voice. Something about the frequencies is just… so _nice_. I could sleep to it. Like a baby.”

He laughed and hailed a cab, asking how much it would be to get home. Pidge played with the back of his head and the short hair there as the cabbie priced it out. “It’ll be about… $32 I think, if traffic is light that is.”

Lance looked up. Traffic didn’t look light, and he only had $21 on him. Not enough. He apologized and stepped back onto the sidewalk. Too far.

“Looks like you gotta drive me, Lance. Lancey Lance.” Pidge giggled again. “The others are gonna be asleeeeep.” She yawned again. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

****

T+ 1 month, 15 days, 2 hours, 57 minutes

****

****  


Lance woke to his cell phone falling from his nightstand. It continued buzzing on his hardwood floor ,while he frantically felt around for it on the ground. When he finally found it, the light blinded him as he looked at the unknown number. He was half tempted to hang up, but something told him that he needed to answer it.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes before he accepted the call.

“Am I speaking to Lance McClain?” a somber voice asked over the line.

“Yeah, it is, and you better have a damn good reason for calling at--” He looked at the clock. “3:27 in the morning.” His fingers tingled as they scratched over his stubble. Hadn’t he just shaved on Thursday? And today was… Monday…

On the other end, she -Lance thought it was a she- cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I do. Are you sitting down?”

Lance scoffed. “Yeah, sitting down. _In bed_.”

“I’m calling from the Garrison Hospital about one of our patients here, Katie Holt. Something happened tonight and--”

The words took longer than they should have to register in his mind. “Pidge?! Is she okay? She’s pregnant, is she okay?” He had been here before. This was too familiar, too much like--

“We’re sorry, we did everything that we could, but…”

“No!” Lance screamed, standing up so fast his vision tunneled, and he almost fell back down. He threw on a pair of pants and started for the door, grabbing his car keys on the way. “I’m going to be right there. You--you save her, do you hear me? You save her!”

****

T+ 1 month, 15 days, 3 hours

****

****  


Lance sat up in bed, panting. The sheets were wrapped around his legs, sticking to him like a second, suffocating skin. The space next to him was achingly familiar in its vacancy.

He placed his head in his hands, shuddering as he started to cry. He picked up his phone off of the nightstand, calling the number for the Garrison Hospital.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Garrison Hospital, my name is Julie, how can I help you?” At least it wasn’t the same voice from earlier.

“My name is Lance McClain.” His mouth was dry, so he reached over to take a few sips of water. “I’m calling about one of your patients. Katie Holt. She’s staying in room 317. I’m one of her emergency contacts. I just want to make sure that she’s… okay.” His voice was shaky. The tremors lining up with his own shaking body.

“Let me transfer you to the ICU, sir, it’ll only be a moment.”

Lance waited, his leg bouncing against the floor until he stood, pacing, and then sat back down. Restless. He couldn’t do anything here.

“Garrison Hospital, IC--”

“I’m calling to check up on my fiancée. Katie Holt. She’s in room 317,” Lance interrupted the nurse, feeling a little bad because of his impatience. “Please, I just… I had a bad dream and-- just check on her please.”

“I came from her room less than five minutes ago, sir. She was perfectly fine. No change in her vitals for better or for worse. I can go back in and check once more if you’d like?”

Lance nodded, jerking his head up and down a few times before he remembered that the nurse couldn’t see him. “Yes. Please. Sorry for asking so late, but I’m just really worried and on edge and, yes. Please check on her.”

A nightmare.

A memory.

It was too familiar, too painful.

Too real.

He couldn’t go through that again.

****

Before

****

****  


Lance held Pidge’s hand as they lowered the casket into the grave.

The past few days had been… rough to say the least. Lance had to deal with the funeral arrangements for his now ex boyfriend. Was that how it worked? When your significant other died, did they automatically become an ex-?

He didn’t want Keith to be an ex.

He wanted to hold Keith and braid his hair and laugh at the jokes that they both made.

He didn’t want…

This.

This empty feeling in his heart where Keith’s smile used to be…

This getting sick even though he hadn’t eaten anything in two days.

This knowing that it wouldn’t be okay, even though everyone else told him that it would.

He looked down at Pidge, and she had tears that matched his own falling from her eyes, through the makeup that she put on this morning, and dripping down to the ground. He watched one fall in slow motion into the grass below, where it was instantly soaked up by the parched ground.

He wasn’t doing much better.

In fact, he had half a thought to jump in there after Keith.

The only thing holding him back was Pidge’s hand.

Lance couldn’t bring himself to pull her fingers away from his hand, and he definitely couldn’t bring her down with him.

The casket settled down into the ground, and Lance felt his heart settle right next to it.

Pidge turned to him, burying her head in Lance’s chest. Hunk hadn’t stopped crying since he first heard the news, and Shiro hadn’t cried at all. He just stared at the ground with a vacant expression.

No one else was really around. Allura was out of the country on business. She’d sent her best, but it wasn’t the same.

It would never be the same.

Lance swallowed around the lump that grew in his throat as he looked at the hole in the ground.

He never wanted to feel this way again.

****

T+ 1 month, 15 days, 7 hours

****

****  


Lance showed up early the next morning. He had called in sick to work, which wasn’t entirely a lie. His stomach roiled at the thought of being anywhere other than by Pidge’s side. He couldn’t work if he tried.

The receptionist greeted him by name, and he waved back. Normally, he would have known her name the first day. He knew that she had told him at least four times over the last few weeks, but he couldn’t find it in himself to remember.

He trudged up to Pidge’s room, feet dragging on the smooth floor as he came to stand outside her door. Subtle beeps and whooshes of air came through the open doorway, but he couldn’t find the fortitude to walk through. She would still be there. Still unconscious. Still…

Still.

He stepped inside, and nothing changed.

Lance sighed, the tension that had built in his body since three in the morning melting off of him.

It was funny how she could do that. Even when she couldn’t _do_ anything. Even when she couldn’t look at him and smile. Even when she couldn’t wrap her arms around his waist, and tuck her head under his and tell him ‘everything is okay, Lance. If you keep worrying, I’m gonna have to call you Hunk.’ She was able to calm him down by just being there.

Lance didn’t know what he would do without her.

The smile that had started to form on his face fell away.

Without her.

That was a sobering thought.

There was a tentative knock on the door and he turned to find a little boy in a faded blue shirt with quickly dusted-off overalls that were torn around his knees. His black hair was short and choppy but parted off to the side like someone wanted him to dress up. He couldn’t have been more than 6. “Um, excuse me, mister,” he said. His voice was small and scratchy; he sounded on the verge of a breakdown. “I think I’m lost.”

Lance stared down at him. “I’m sorry.” It sounded hollow and unapologetic even to him. What was he supposed to do?

Tears welled in the little boy’s eyes. “My daddy… he-- he-- he--” He wiped at his eyes as the tears started to fall. He fell to the ground, well, maybe it was more of a quick and uncontrolled sit. His little body shook with small shudders as he started to sob.

And that… that was more that Lance expected. What was he supposed to do with a bawling child? He stuck his head in the hall, looking around for anyone else. When he didn’t see anyone, he sat on the ground in front of the kid and stuck his hand out.

“Hi,” he said. Simple. Easy.

The boy stopped crying almost immediately. His breath came in soft little hiccups as he stared at Lance’s hand. Tentatively, he stuck his hand out to be completely dwarfed by Lance’s larger one.

“I’m Lance,” he introduced himself. The boy’s hand was wet from tears and snot. Oddly enough, Lance wasn’t disgusted.

“I’m Romeo,” he said weakly, sniffling. “But, daddy said-- said that I shouldn’t tell strangers that.”

Lance smiled at him. He knew it wasn’t a real smile, but it was enough to fool the boy. “So, I’m not a stranger then?” he asked. “I think your daddy would disagree.” Romeo blinked, and then his eyes welled up again. More tears got ready to fall, but Lance was able to quell them before they did. “Hey, no, wait. One second…” He closed his eyes and squeezed them shut, holding up a finger. “Deleted.” 

He opened his eyes and then leaned back on his hands as fast as he could. “Who are you?” he accused and pointed a finger at Romeo. He narrowed his eyes and got as close to his face as he could.

The boy blinked again before he burst out laughing a second later. It sounded too close to sobbing for Lance’s comfort, but Romeo’s smiling face was enough to reassure him. “You know already!”

Lance shook his head. “I do _not_! Name yourself, imposter!”

Romeo laughed again, rocking back on his butt. “You’re funny.”

“Well, hello, ‘You’re funny’,” Lance greeted once more. “I’m Lance.” He grinned. His first dad joke and he wasn’t even a dad yet.

Another sobering thought. He didn’t even know if he would get to be a father. If something happened to Pidge…

He didn’t want to finish that thought.

“My name’s not ‘You’re funny’!” Romeo said with a smile. His tears were long forgotten, even if there were still streak marks down his cheeks. “I’m Romeo,” he introduced himself again. Then as an afterthought, as if he remembered the reason why Lance forgot his name, he added another ‘eo’ to the end.

Lance faked a wider smile. “Well, Romeoeo, why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?!” He stuck his hand out again; it was still sticky and slimy from their first encounter. 

Romeo stuck his hand out again, much more enthusiastic this time, and shook Lance’s hand.

“What can I do ya for?” Lance asked with a tiny accent, stroking his invisible mustache. With his other hand, he made a ring and put it over his eye like a monocle. His disguise was complete.

The boy cocked his head, eyes big, wide, and still wet from unshed tears. “What?” he questioned after a few moments of silence.

Lance leaned toward him and covered his face with both his hands. “He’s asking you what you want.” His voice was different this time, secretive and hushed.

“_You’re_ asking what _you_ want?”

Lance shook his head and whisper-shouted, “No, no, no, you’ve gotta be quiet, Romeoeo. He can hear you if you talk too loud.”

Romeo giggled again and leaned forward so he could cup his hands in front of his face. “Can he hear me now?”

Lance grinned and shook his head again. “No, he can’t. His name is Lancito, alright? He talks really weird, and he’s _very_ serious.” He waited for Romeo to nod before he leaned back, monocle and mustache appearing again. “What can I do ya for, sir?”

This was acting. He could do acting.

He could.

He needed to.

“I…” Romeo trailed off. “I think I’m lost?” he said again, and just like that, his good attitude was gone. He shrunk again, rubbing at his eyes with his snotty hands. “My daddy said-- said I needed to see mommy. But I can’t find her.”

Lance nodded, keeping the character up. “Have you considered scouring this room? Perhaps she simply lost the path she was to take.”

Romeo shook his head. “No, no, n--no. She… she’s like that,” he said and pointed straight at Pidge, still in her bed, like always. “She doesn’t move.”

“Like that?” Lance asked; Romeo nodded. “Well, why don’t cha come on up ‘ere then?” His accent had changed but who cared? He opened his arms for the little boy who ran to him and jumped up. Lance hefted him up so he could see Pidge. “Is this your mommy?” He sounded like that old children’s book, _Are You My Mommy?_ That story where the little bird falls out of his nest and walks around the farm, asking several different animals, who are decidedly not his mother, if they are his mother.

He needs to get those types of books. _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_, _Horton Hears a Who_, _Goodnight Moon_, and _Love You Forever_. Standard children’s books. They were practically a staple in his home when he was growing up. He would love to read them to his own kid.

Romeo shook his head. “Not h--her,” he started to sob and he squirmed around in Lance’s grip until he set him down on the bed. The boy crawled up on the bed, being careful to avoid the thin tubes and wires surrounding her body like a bed of flowers. “My mommy’s like her. With all the beeps,” he sniffled and pointed to her heart monitor which was going along, beeping at a steady pace.

Lance nodded. “Yeah?” He pointed at Pidge’s stomach. “You see right there? That little bump.” The boy nodded and reached his hand out to touch her stomach. Lance moved to stop him, but he was too late, and Romeo already had his tiny hand splayed out on her baby bump.

Surprisingly, Pidge didn’t stir at the touch. She stayed absolutely still; not a muscle twitched.

And for a second, Lance could pretend that this was another time. Romeo wasn’t Romeo anymore, he was Lance’s little boy and Pidge was awake and smiling. Laughing, as she rearranged his hand on her stomach so he could feel the baby kick.

His little family.

“Is there a baby here?” Romeo asked and turned to look at Lance again, who nodded. “A baby like me?” Lance nodded again with a little laugh. Small, but genuine.

“He’s a little smaller than you,” Lance chuckled, having dropped his disguise. “But he’s in there.” He put his hand on top of the boy’s, feather light so Pidge wouldn’t move. “And when he comes out, _I’ll_ be a daddy.”

“You already are,” a new voice said from the doorway. Romeo turned around to look before he giggled and leapt off of the bed, into the newcomer’s arms. They looked closely related. If not for their identical ripped overalls, then their shared eyebrows and eyes would have given it away.

He smiled at Lance after he gave Romeo a quick kiss on the temple. “Once that test comes back positive? You’re a father.”

****

T- 2 minutes

****

****  


Pidge smiled in her sleep.

She had watched him for the first few minutes of the drive, but soon fell asleep. Sitting sideways in her chair with her legs pulled up to her chest in the cutest little ball, Lance couldn’t help but steal lingering glances. A curl of hair moved with her soft breathing, in and out, in and out, repeat.

She was so… calm, just sitting there.

Lance took the winding road slower than he usually would so he could keep looking over.

The mountains were pretty enough, but nothing compared to her.

In hindsight, he should have watched the road more.

****

T+ 2 months, 19 days, 16 hours

****

****  


Pidge would call him an idiot.

Maybe he was.

Next to him, he had a small tower of books, hardcover ones of different sizes. There were some Dr. Seuss and other classics, _The Rainbow Fish_, _The Ugly Duckling_, and a few others.

Right now, he was crying over _Love You Forever_.

It wasn’t just one tear either. He was flat out sobbing as he read through this book. Someone poked their head in earlier to check on him. They must have thought that Pidge had died, because of how many tears soaked into the sheets below him.

He couldn’t help himself. It was such a sweet story. He couldn’t wait to read to his little boy, rocking him back and forth in the rocking chair that he still needed to get. Maybe he would make one. That would be nice, something to keep his mind off of the hospital, even if he knew it wouldn’t work.

Lance set the book off to the side to finish later. He wiped his eyes and reached for the next book, reading _Yertle the Turtle_ out loud. Somewhere he had read that the father of the child needed to be sure and talk to the belly, so that the baby would recognize the sound of his voice when it was born. Mothers often didn’t need to, because the baby already hears their mother’s voice whenever she speaks to anyone and everyone.

Maybe this was an anomaly. If Pidge woke up, he needed to keep her talking so their little boy could know both of his parents.

“I hope you aren’t like Yertle,” he said. “All things considered, he was kinda an asshole.” He scoffed with a small laugh. “I think I want you to be more like Nemo… kind and curious… not afraid to stick it to me, but also daring.” He sighed again. “Well, like Nemo if Nemo’s mom wasn’t dead. Because Pidge is gonna wake up soon.”

He laid his head on the bed and hummed.

Pidge’s stomach was getting bigger by the day. Well, it felt like that. Lance could see the bump every day when he walked in. And every day, he had to resist the urge to put his hand on it.

It got easier every day.

It got harder every day.

He sat up to stretch and rearrange the silk flowers. They were starting to get dusty in this corner. He sneezed, the sound so out of place in the otherwise quiet room. Lance laughed. Pidge would have made fun of him for that before laughing herself.

Her coffee was surprisingly still warm, but it wasn’t her eternal favorite temperature: scalding, so if she woke up now, he’d have to microwave it pronto. She never went a day without coffee, and now it was more than two months without the stuff. He couldn’t imagine how grumpy she would be.

He sat back down in his chair that he was 90% sure now had an imprint of his butt. The thought almost made him smile. As he sat down, he picked up the book from the pile, opening it to the first page again.

“_A mother held her new baby in her arms and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang:_

_I’ll love you forever,_  
I’ll like you for always,  
As long as I’m living,  
My baby you’ll be…

He looked over at Pidge before he smiled at her and repeated the verse. “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always.

“As long as I’m living, my Pidgey you’ll be.”

****

T- 2 seconds

****

****  


Those headlights were too close.

****

T+ 4 months, 28 days, 14 hours, 23 minutes

****

****  


Today was supposed to be their wedding day.

Lance stared at the ring in his hand. A single sapphire with two emeralds, one on each side, inlaid in a fourteen karat gold band. The metal was shaped like vines, with flowers that had emeralds in the center. He just had it polished a month ago, so the gold was a bright and shining color.

It used to be his abuela’s.

He remembered climbing on her lap when he was little, to hear her tell the same story over and over again. She rocked him in her chair, back and forth with her left hand on his knee, so he could see the fire play tricks with the ring, see how it sparkled.

~

“_This ring used to be your bisabuela’s, you know?” She started the same way every time. “Your Abelo’s mama’s. She told him that when he found a girl, he needed to give her this ring. Made him swear that he would. He was the only boy in his family after his papa passed, so she made sure that he would pass this ring on._”

_The rocking chair groaned as Lance rearranged himself in her lap. “But why didn’t Abuelo-mama give it to Tia Rosa? She’s older than Abuelo because her skin does this,” he said and pulled at his cheeks so they looked like they were sagging, before bursting out in a fit of giggles._

_She scowled at him, stopping the rocking of her chair. “Now, Lancito,” she chided, “Be nice to Tia Rosa. Your Abuelo’s skin does that too. And so does mine.” Lance nodded and murmured his apologies before she started to rock again. “Back when he was as big as you… girls weren’t treated like they are today. They were wives and mamas. Nothing more than that.”_

_Lance cocked his head. “But… Mama’s still mama?”_

_His abuela nodded. “Because she wants to be. It wasn’t always like that. Today, if your mama wanted, she could be a doctor _and_ a mama, and no one would bother her. People used to be mean to them._”

_Lance nodded as if he understood, still not understanding._

“_Anyway, your abuelo’s mama told him that when she died and he could find a nice woman to marry, he needed to give her this ring. Well, unfortunately, she died in a flood._”

“_Unfortuntee?” Lance asked, tripping over the word. “What’s that mean?_”

_She smiled down at him. “Bad luck. I keep forgetting you’re little because you use a lot of big words.”_

_Lance nodded. “Like Photofinsis!” he exclaimed, “It’s what trees do!”_

“_Exactly like that. I don’t even know what that word means!” She brushed his hair out of his face. “Well, anyway, your bisabuela, she died in a flood, that’s a lot of water,” she explained before he could ask. “And when he met me, he said, ‘Mierda! I need to go for a swim!’_”

“_Mierda? What’s that mean?_”

“_Shhhhh, don’t say that word yet. That’s a bigger-boy word. And don’t tell your mama I said it either.” She poked his nose and smiled. “Abuelo went swimming for that ring, he did. He swam back to his house and got it. This thing was covered in green slime, but he got it back. Yes he did, he got it back and polished it up. Then we got married, and it’s been with me ever since. Now, Lancito, listen to me._”

_And even though he heard her say this tens of times, he leaned in so he would catch every word._

“_When I’m gone, I want you to use this ring to marry the girl you want._”

_Lance grinned like he did every time. “But Abuela, I don’t wanna go swimming for it._”

~

Lance smiled softly and held the ring over Pidge’s finger. He showed it to her when he first proposed and she loved it.

She said it was like _their_ colors, but she was jealous that he got the bigger one. She got two, but that never seemed to satisfy her.

He always wondered if maybe… his mother’s father’s mother knew what she was saying…

Maybe somehow she knew…

That Lance was going to marry the girl of his dreams with it.

****

T+ 6 months, 9 days, 10 hours, 12 minutes

****

****  


Lance walked through the door right after two doctors ran in.

Not a brisk walk.

Not a jog.

They _ran_.

Naturally, Lance ran after them, into the normally silent room that was filled with frantic beeping, and someone pushed him away saying, “Step aside, sir.” They swarmed around Pidge, disconnecting her from some machines while raising the bars of her bed to wheel her out.

“What’s happening?” he asked, dumbly. Obviously something was happening and it was either good or bad, but it didn’t look like Pidge was awake, so he was leaning toward bad.

One of the nurses pulled away. He didn’t know his name, but his face seemed familiar. He walked up to Lance, reaching for his hand to pull him aside.

“What’s happening?” Lance repeated, stomach sinking to the floor. “Is she alright?” He was late today. Hunk and Shiro had met him at the cemetery to lay flowers and raise a glass to Keith. He couldn’t… He couldn’t lose Pidge too.

Not today.

Not ever.

“She’s gone into labor.”

****

T+ 1 minute 54 seconds

****

****  


Lance blinked his eyes open, looking around. His head felt hot… heavy, and somehow thick? Like he was in a big pool, and he dove down to touch the bottom and just stayed there. Pressurized.

The car was dark, so was outside.

He wanted to go back to sleep.

There was a small dripping sound, and he was about to yell at Katie to turn the faucet off before his vision started to clear a little. They were in their car…

Upside down.

Panic filled his chest, and he flailed around, looking for Pidge.

“Pidge?” He asked, looking around and wincing when his head throbbed. One of his hands scratched at the buckle until he managed to undo it and fell to the roof of the car. Squeezing his eyes shut as the blood fell back into the rest of his body, he gasped.

Lance looked to the side, making out the shadow of her curled hair in the dark. “Pidgey, Pidgey, Pidgey,” he repeated, crawling over to her. He was careful of shifting his weight, because he had no clue where they were.

He remembered swerving to avoid a car that had taken a curve way too wide, and then that awful screeching of metal against metal as the guard rails gave way to the car and they tipped over the edge, into the open air.

Thank god she was wearing her seat belt. Lance didn’t want to think about what could have happened if she hadn't been. He reached for his phone, which, surprisingly, was unharmed. Props to Apple maybe?

It slipped out of his hands and shattered on the roof of the car.

Props rescinded.

He picked it back up, dialing. He ignored the blood that smeared across his screen with every tap and swipe.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

****

T+ 6 months, 9 days, 13 hours, 27 minutes

****

****  


Lance hated this.

The doctors had her legs tied up in stirrups, and had administered something to help with the contractions. Pidge couldn’t exactly help push while she was… like she was.

Lance remembered asking about risks, but he couldn’t remember the answer. All he could do was hold Pidge’s hand as she twisted away from him and the doctors. At least she was treating them both the same now.

He swallowed, watching her body break out in a sheen of sweat as it struggled to contract. The doctors were saying something about crowning and dilation, but all he could concentrate on was Pidge. He kissed the top of her head, whispering words of encouragement against her skin through clenched teeth; even if she couldn’t completely understand.

They had been like this for… a while now. He looked at the clock, blinking as sweat fell into his eyes and stung. The clock didn’t look like it had moved since he first walked in.

No, that wasn’t right… an hour?

Half an hour?

At this point, who knew?

A while.

Lance decided to go with ‘a while’. He had called the others as soon as he knew what was happening, and they were downstairs in the waiting room. The doctors didn’t want any more people than was absolutely necessary in the room incase something went awry.

Lance _really_ hoped that wouldn’t happen.

“She’s fully dilated,” one of them said. “Should only take another hour or two.”

Lance swallowed and nodded. Another hour of this. Another hour of sweat and thrashing and medical jargon and tears and contractions.

He brushed Pidge’s curls out of her face. Some of the strands stuck to her sweaty forehead and stayed there, refusing to move. Stubborn, just like she was. Lance smiled softly as he plucked each strand up and moved it back to the rest of her hair. She’d get through this.

She had to.

****

T+ 6 months, 9 days, 14 hours, 20 minutes

****

****  


“We’ve got him!” one of the nurses exclaimed.

It was almost… normal the way she said it, and Lance nearly missed it. Well, he might have nearly missed it for another reason.

The baby was completely silent. For a few moments, he forgot about Pidge and let her hand fall to the bed as she stood up. “Is he okay?” Lance asked; he could feel how furrowed his brow was, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

The doctors ignored him as they surrounded Lance’s son, giving him different scores, recording the time and date of birth, talking over each other and writing everything down on a clipboard in intelligible writing.

“He’s not crying!”

“Respiration score of 0, Reflex of 1, everything else at 2.”

“What does that mean?”

Lance could feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to choke him. Please, he couldn’t lose his son. He had already been through so much. And the baby still wasn’t crying--

And just like that, like he had wished and it came true, the baby cried.  
Tension melted off of him, and he fell back into the chair by Pidge’s bed feeling weak with relief.

The baby was okay.

And Lance was a father.

Beside him, Pidge stirred, probably reacting to the sound. He glanced over, prepared to whisper into her ear when he saw light brown eyes staring back at him.

Her mouth opened, and it was sticky and dry and he could hear it above the rest of the noise in the room, but it was the best sound he’d ever heard in his life. She looked around, blinking again, and her hand reached out to touch Lance’s.

That small touch was all it took.

“She’s awake!” he yelled, both of his hands going to hold Pidge’s. He brought them up to kiss her hands as tears started to spill from his eyes. “She’s awake,” he repeated, cementing it in his mind.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, smiling down at her.

She smiled back up at him.

And it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

****

Awake

****

****  


Lance held Pidge’s hand as she was declared free to go.

In her other hand, she held their baby, Matthew Keith Holt-McClain. Matthew, because Lance tried to think of a name that Pidge would love, and Keith because their son shared a birthday with their friend, and Pidge had insisted that he needed to also share a name.

She was still getting used to having a baby, and he thought that it made sense. He’d had _months_ to get accustomed to the idea of parenthood.

As far as Pidge was concerned, she had gone to sleep and woke up with a baby.

Lance couldn’t imagine what that had to feel like, but he would stay with her through everything.

She needed to attend physical therapy for her muscles for a few months. They had atrophied to the point that she couldn’t walk without someone helping her. Lance smiled as he helped her into the wheelchair and placed Matthew in her arms. She had a special sling for him in case her arms were too weak to hold him up.

Lance didn’t think she minded as he watched her kiss the top of Matthew’s head. He was fast asleep, but Lance had seen his little brown eyes earlier. Just like Pidge’s.

“Can you help me into the back?” Pidge asked as they got to the car. Her voice was still a little scratchy from not using it for months, but she smiled as she looked up at him. “I want to sit next to him.”

Lance nodded and helped her in, being careful as he put Matthew in the car seat next to her. He kissed Pidge softly. “It’s good to have you back,” he whispered and closed the door softly.

“It’s good to be back,” Pidge replied with a soft smile. “And thank you for the coffee.” She laughed, a small tinkling noise that woke little Matthew. She went to coo over him with a smile. “It’s hard to believe I’m a mom,” she sighed. “Just think about it. We made a baby. And a cute one too.”

“With your genes? Of course he’s adorable,” Lance said.

Pidge giggled and turned to him. “You can’t say that. I haven’t had a proper shower in months. That’s the first thing I’m going to do when I get home,” she said with a sigh and turned back to Matthew, who had started to cry.

Pidge hummed slightly, waving her fingers in front of his face before he reached out and grabbed them. She hummed again, before opening her mouth.

“I’ll love you forever,  
I’ll like you for always,  
As long as I’m living,”

She looked directly at Lance through the rearview mirror.

_ **“My family you’ll be…”** _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was so much fun to write, and I'm so glad I had an awesome team to do it with. If you want to read more of my stuff, please check out the rest of my works here, and you can also find me on [tumblr](https://fandomseverywhereassemble.tumblr.com/)! If you liked it, please leave some kudos, and if you really liked it, please leave a comment.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and I hope you have a great day.


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